Extra Pill for The Sick Detective
by Little Hatake
Summary: Sherlock is sick! Sick Sherlock is really a nuisance and John swears he doesn't want to experience it anymore. [sick!Sherlock and doctor!John. The English version of my fict. Mind to read and review, anyone? ;)]


Sherlock is sick! Sick Sherlock is really a nuisance and John swears he doesn't want to experience it anymore.

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><p>Disclaimer for <strong>Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (Sherlock Holmes) Steven Moffat &amp; Mark Gatiss (TV Series SHERLOCK by BBC ONE)<strong>

Character: **John Watson & Sherlock Holmes**

~oOo~

**Extra Pill**

by Little Hatake

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John releases a heavy sigh as he opens the door of Sherlock's bedroom and finds the sick detective has left his bed again for the 3rd times today. Then, he takes his mobilephone from his jacket's pocket and dials Lestrade's number. After several waiting tones, He suddenly hears a heavy-upset answer from Lestrade.

"_Yes, Sherlock is here! And he is trying to enter the crime scene again!"_

"Ok, don't let him to do anything reckless. I'll be there as soon as possible." John hangs up first, then he rushedly walks out from their flat and goes to Lestrade's place.

Actually, there is nothing "_wrong" about _Sherlock went to a crime scene in London. But this time, the "_wrong" _thing is his health condition.

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_Sherlock and John's Flat - Few hours earlier_

_Sherlock got a severe flu, he also__ suffered a__ high fever. Even last night, he suddenly sleeptalked and it was loud enough to wake John up. Of course, he insisted not to admit it when John told him in the next morning._

_John had told him to rest in his bedroom after breakfast. No nicotine patch, no violin and no criminal case! Sherlock obviously complained and then argued John's decision. He tried to convince John by a lot of excuses, so John would allow him to go out and solve a case. But, there is no one who could make John changes his decision about nursing a patient. And this time, Sherlock is his patient right now._

'_Hopeless' is never exist inside Sherlock's vocabularies. He tried to run away when John is in bathroom. _

_But, his first attempt was failed because John already caught him when he was about to wearing his coat and draping scarf._

_John's keen gaze forced Sherlock to take off his coat and go back to bed. He was forced to re-attach his forehead fever patch, then he talked to John with a desperatedly-annoying line, "I'm like a little kid, John!" but he simply couldn't do anything against John._

_Thirty minutes passed, John was blogging in sitting room, but suddenly he is called by Mrs. Hudson to help her clean up a room that will be rented soon._

_Hearing footsteps go down the stairs from his room, Sherlock immediately rose from his bed and wore his coat as soon as he could. He came out of the flat slowly and tried not to make any sound even the smoothest one. However, again the escape attempt was caught by John right when he rolled the door knob._

"_Oh my LORD! Sherlock! Go back to your room, NOW!" John ordered him with a firm and undeniable, a military-kind command tone._

_Sherlock hates that command intonation. John only uses that kind of tone when he is really serious and certainly he doesn't like if his words are not obeyed._

_It was better for Sherlock to save his energy—He is too exhausted for arguing someone else, especially with the doctor._

_This time, the doctor brought along his laptop into the bedroom to prevent the stubborn detective trying to escape again. Poor Sherlock. There was no hope for him to run away again. Every time Sherlock made a move, John's eyes keenly __locked__ all of his movements._

_After some arguments—Sherlock denied lesser than usual, his energy has been drained enough,__ even only for__ keeping his gravel__l__y voice to remain—, John insisted that Sherlock have to rest all-day long and there was no further compromise about that._

_Half-heartedly, Sherlock wrapped himself in a blanket and curled to the side of bed. He had given John an impression of _'**I-am-going-to-sleep-are-you-satisfied-now!?'**_ and John replied with a small grin as if to answer _'**good-decision-now-silence-your-mouth-and-sleep!**'_ before Sherlock went sleep and turned his back against John._

_A constant gasp was heard from bed. Sherlock's chest movement went up and down regularly convinced John that Sherlock was really sleeping. No suspicious movements in last two hours from the sick consulting detective. John was already bored of replying comments in his blog and reading articles on news portals. Anyway, it was lunch time and John intended to buy food at a nearby Italian restaurant, __he also intended to__ buy some snacks._

_After turning off the laptop and ensuring Sherlock's last condition, John came out from the flat, then he headed to Angelo's restaurant._

_Suddenly, the blanket was exposed and Sherlock immediately rose from the bed! Actually, Sherlock had planned all of this! He was pretending to sleep for two hours and waited for the right time when John go out to buy lunch. It was not a big problem for Sherlock to maintain steady breathing gasp while pretending to sleep for only two hours since he is able to stand in an unmoved position for hours._

_And finally, Sherlock managed to escape from 221 B Bakert Street—eventhough he was shivering and staggering— he finally suceeded to hail a cab for going to Lestrade's place._

.

Here is John now, a place with yellow police line extended, many police officers are rushingly passing by trying to collect evidences; a crime scene. With hasty steps, he walks towards Sherlock who is still trying to convince Lestrade to let him in.

A man with the thick coat, messed curly hair, reddish face, sweating, sneezing, disarray vision and nasal voice that followed by short breathing. Yes, Sherlock is really sick!

"Sherlock, you are sick!"

"I'm not sick, John! My immunity is just—_*sneeze*_—decreasing at the moment and the bloody rhinovirus attacked me without my permission, causing rhinofaringitis on—_*sneeze*_—my respiration system." No matter from what angle you see Sherlock, he is not looking well at all.

"And on the other words, _you are sick!_ Go home now. You must take a rest!"

"Sleeping is boring and only wasting time. Do you want me to let my brain went rot because it's unused to think!? Don't be ridiculous, John—"

"A few hours of sleeping is _not _going to make your brain dysfunctioning, Sher—"

"It's just for normal—_*sneeze*_—human beings like—"

"Admit it, you are just _normal_ human!"

No matter how much John argues him, Sherlock is simply stubborn, he just doesn't want to leave that place.

Finally, Lestrade cuts off their arguments. "You have to follow your doctor's advice, Sherlock."

Sherlock is frowning. "John is not my doc—"

"You're my patient and I'm your doctor," John interrupts quickly.

"Since when?" A disagreeing tone inserted in Sherlock's voice.

"Since you get sick. Now, please let Lestrade back to his work."

Sherlock stares at Lestrade, seeking for a support to let him to be here. But the inspector just gives him '_**we-can-solve-this-case-without-your-help-Sherlock' **_look.

With small grunt, finally Sherlock becomes cooperative and follows John into a cab, heading back to Baker Street.

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"Please eat and then drink the medicines." John prepares a plate of spaghetti for himself and another plate—plus an extra small plate containing three pills—for Sherlock.

Without any further comment, Sherlock eats quietly. Honestly, he is so hungry. His stomach has kept making noises since he pretended to sleep earlier. He curses a bit about his ilness that made his food-neccesity went greater than his thinking-neccesity. But, because of his dense high pride and never wants to be weak, he covers this desire from everyone—especially from John.

After eating, Sherlock glances at the pills with a strange look. "What is it?"

John answers from the kitchen without turning to his flatmate, "I know you actually know better what it is."

Sherlock rolls his eyes. "You're the doctor, _Doctor John Watson_."

John just ignores the sarcasm. "The pink pill is paracetamol and the blue one is—"

"—for flu. So obvious," Sherlock interrupts John annoyingly.

Fortunately, John is accustomed very well when he has to behave with his annoying best friend.

"And how about this one? I've never seen it before." Sherlock rolls the white small pill.

John puts a glass of water in front of Sherlock. "That is an extra dosage of immunity. You got a quite severe flu and I'm so sure you don't want to get sick like this again for the rest of your life."

"You're not going to poison me, are you?" Sherlock asks suspiciously and directly answered by John's death glare. "Ok, I know you are not." Sherlock immediately drinks the medicines with one gulp.

"Now you...," John pushes Sherlock's tall body to bedroom, "...sleep and don't make any trouble again."

Sherlock mutters, "I _never_ made any trouble."

"Ya, ya, ya. You _never_ let me rest because of your childish actions," John retorts.

Sherlock grunts and pulls back his blanket over his body.

"I have an appointment with a friend of mine and I will go out for aproximately for an hour. I'll be glad if you stay here, resting on your bed when I come back later."

While sleeping face the wall, Sherlock replies, "Yes, doctor."

John seems satisfied enough with Sherlock's response, he comes out and slowly closes the door, then walks to the stairs.

After arriving at the first floor, John actually takes off his shoes and tiptoes silently going back to his flat! it's time for John's revenge! He is coming up with a cunning plan now! He doesn't want to get swindled again for the fourth time. After a few minutes of waiting in front of the bedroom's door, he hears a thud, a sound of falling object, inside the room. The doctor calmly opens the door and looks up his patient who are trying to get up from his lying position at floor.

"Daarrn! Joohn! That's no-not the ex-extra immunity pill!" The voice of Sherlock slowly begins to fade along with his conciousness.

A smile of victory appears in John's lips. "Well, actually that is an extra dosage of sleeping pill, Sherlock. An extra prevention and protection so you will not try to escape again."

Sherlock's eyes are widening, he is a little bit shocked, blinking and trying to get back his conciousness—but his acts are all in vain. It seems that the effect of sleeping pill has been already working.

He understands so well about his bestfriend's anxiety, John quickly adds, "Oh, no, no. Take it easy. I fully understand your condition and I know the proper dosage for you. I'm sure one hundred per cent that it will not affect to your brilliant brain."

Sherlock staggeringly raises his finger and points it to John, then mumbles "How dare you, John—" and not long after that, his consciousness has lost completely.

Altough it's quite difficult to lift Sherlock's body (which is heavier than his body) to return him back to his bed and then covers him with blanket, John is so satisfied and so proud of his _genious idea_. He thinks it is no need to apologize to Sherlock when he wakes up later. After all, he did all of this plan for the goodsake of his own partner. Sick Sherlock is really a nuisance! And John swears he doesn't want to experience it anymore.

A smooth gasp starts to flow again from the bed. And this time, Sherlock will _guaranteedly _sleep for the next eight hours. John leaves the room slowly so Sherlock can sleep peacefully.

"Get well soon, buddy..."

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**FIN**

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~oOo~

rgrds, **LH**

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><p>Well, this is my first English fanfiction. Thank you so much for <strong>r3xr4pt0r<strong> for beta-reading it XD

Actually, English is not my mother-tongue language, especially British English. So, if you have any suggestions to improve the British English for this fict, feel free to send me a PM :))

I'll be glad to see you giving review, it really makes my day! XD


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